


At The End

by icewhisper



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-18
Updated: 2018-01-18
Packaged: 2019-03-06 07:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13405932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icewhisper/pseuds/icewhisper
Summary: Len may have died at the Oculus, but that doesn’t mean he ever left Mick.





	At The End

**Author's Note:**

> This is 100% nirejseki's fault. Blame her.

He never left.

He supposed he could have, supposed he could have moved onto whatever came after. It would have ended the decades-long debate he and Mick had kept going; Christian views versus Jewish versus Len’s cynicism that the afterworld was nothing more than an ideal people held onto so they didn’t have a real _end_ hanging over their heads.

He didn’t go. He didn’t follow the odd light that seemed to shine at the corner of his vision, a vivid blue that glowed so bright, it began to turn white. A mockery, he thought, because even if there was a heaven or a facsimile of one, that’s not where he’d go. He wasn’t sure it was somewhere he’d _want_ to go, not when he knew Mick would throw away any higher power’s decision so he could choose a world of fire.

It was too much sentiment, too much philosophy for someone who barely practiced and who kept a debate going just because it was fun to watch Mick fall back on old Sunday school classes he’d never _really_ cared about.

He watched Mick instead, chest aching as he watched the man keep going. Mick had a life before him and Len had always known he’d have one without him, but he’d hoped it would be a better life, not one of booze and some kind of suicidal ideation that had always felt more like Len than Mick.

Mick never heard the things he said to him, but he listened to the hallucinations and to the past version that was as much him as it wasn’t. Wrong, he thought, because he’d always been petty and jealous, but never in his worst moments would he have ever spoken to Mick like that, never would have killed him.

Watching Mick broke his heart in ways he didn’t know it could be broken. He was sorry. Sorry that he’d died. Sorry that all he’d left Mick with was a wedding band and a gun. Sorry that he’d died with Mick thinking he’d done it for the mission and some heroic ideals when all he’d wanted was to save _Mick_.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again as he watched Mick play with the ring, metal bouncing against the chain’s pattern. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

He stayed, determined to be with Mick until the very end. Lisa would be okay without him. He’d _raised her_ to make sure she’d be okay without him, but he’d never thought Mick cared enough to not be. Love and marriage and partnership, but he’d never fully believed he’d ingrained himself so deeply in Mick.

Len was realizing he’d been wrong about a lot.

He brushed his hand over Mick’s, watched him shiver, and let his lips quirk up in a sad smile.

He stayed.

* * *

 

Mick kept going, but he didn’t think he kept living. He held onto the bottle with the same kind of dependency he usually reserved for his lighter; like the world might go to pieces if his hand was empty. He survived losing Len at the Vanishing Point. He survived telling Lisa and the Rogues and the realization that a group of people that only liked Len half the time had mourned him more than the people he’d died for.

Wondered if maybe he was so lost in his own grief that he was being too hard.

Didn’t think he cared.

He drank so he could survive, dulling the world like it’d dull the pain. It didn’t. He still hurt like half of him was gone. He hadn’t _known_ he could love someone like that. He’d known Len had burrowed himself into Mick in ways he hadn’t expected, but so completely… Mick gave a bitter snort and took another long drink from his beer. He’d never meant to fall in love with the scrawny pain in his ass that’d shadowed him in juvie.

He wasn’t sure he would have changed it, given the chance.

He just kept surviving. The Legion and a Len that hadn’t felt right. Leaving him behind. He stayed on a mission and a ship that felt like it was tearing him apart, because he felt like he should. Len had died for these people, died for a mission that Mick hadn’t given a shit about. All Mick had ever wanted was to go home, but he couldn’t go back without Len.

He had nowhere else to go.

He’d give it to the team, at least. After they’d started chasing anachronisms, they seemed to try. He and Sara found a common ground that felt like friendship. He thought they were all doing okay, that he might be able to power through.

Then, Leo came and Leo _stayed_ and it was too much. He snapped at Len’s clone—so alike in appearance, but so _different_ in everything else—and pushed him away. He didn’t want a friend that had Len’s face. He _couldn’t_ -

It didn’t mean he wanted Leo to die. Didn’t think he could handle watching any version of Leonard Snart die, no matter how wrong he felt.

He stepped in the way of the time pirate’s gun. Raised his own.

He wasn’t fast enough.

The pain came before he realized he’d been hit, that the blast from the gun had blown a hole the size of a fist in his chest.

Sara screamed.

Leo choked.

Ray rushed over, suited hands trying to get at him and fumbling, because he was no doctor. None of them were. The closest thing they’d had to a doctor on the ship had died months ago.

They all knew Ray couldn’t stop it, that none of them could, and that the ship was too far away.

“I can fly him-”

“We can’t move him,” Sara argued. “He’s-”

“We have to do _something_!”

“It’s okay,” he coughed, blood slipping past his lips and down his cheeks in some gruesome version of a smile. Leo stared back at him, stricken, but it wasn’t him Mick was looking at. He stared over Leo’s shoulder at the man behind him. At the shining eyes. At the hard set of his jaw. At the way his lips shaped Mick’s name like it hurt.

Sara smoothed her hand over his head, her breath shaking. “Mick-”

“I see him,” he told her, voice a little weaker.

Ray made a strangled noise. He thought he could hear the others, either out in the distance or through the comm that had fallen out of his ear when he went down.

“I see him,” he said again and coughed. More blood. Drowning in it, he thought. His vision was already going fuzzy at the edges. “Bastard’s here.”

“What’s he talking about?” Ray asked helplessly. He sounded like he was crying. “Sara, we have to do something-”

Mick gave Len a bloody smile. “‘Til death do us part didn’t mean _wait for me_ , asshole.”

Leo’s hand grasped his. “Mick-”

He closed his eyes.

The End


End file.
